~*~

You didn't think the fear could get any worse than it already was.

The entire room is permeated by the stench of fear, an overwhelming feeling so strong that it's all you can do to cling to your composure. The bruises and cuts don't bother you any more. Even the brutalization and rape is but a faded memory. What holds you frozen in terror now is the moment fast approaching . . . the moment when the screams from the torture chamber fall silent . . .

. . . and your captors come for their next victim.

Cradling your pounding skull in your hands, you curl your knees tighter to your body and rock slowly back and forth, cursing the Jedi who had been a part of your mission. Cursing him for failing, cursing him for dying, cursing him for leaving you all alone . . .

As lightning arches through your skull again, you let out a low moan, digging your fingers into your hair. Cursing the Jedi for dumping all the information he had gathered into your brain before he was taken away to be tortured to death.

It had hurt when he'd done it . . . and he hadn't even asked. You were the lowest ranking member of the diplomatic party, just an aide to a secretary. One moment you were curled in the corner, bemoaning the day you'd chosen a life of politics--and the next your face was in his hands, your eyes pierced by a steely gray gaze.

And then the world had exploded behind your eyes as everything the Jedi knew was forced into your mind, images and thoughts and words and information, so much knowledge that you're sure your essence must have seeped out to make room for it. It was painful, and horrible, and terrifying . . .

He kissed you when it was done, a soft kiss on your forehead and one on each eye. "Tell the Temple what I did," he had whispered. "They will know what to do."

Moments later the screaming had stopped. When the doors swung open, the Jedi was the next to go.

That had been four victims ago . . . countless hours of horrible screaming. Curled into the corner, whimpering soundlessly, you had nothing to do but count down the moments until your long, drawn out and painful death.

Damn the Republic and damn their enemies. And damn your boss for not telling you that there was more to this 'diplomatic mission' than had met the eye.

And damn the Jedi for dying. For deserting you. For leaving you.

Gathering the shreds of your tattered clothing around you, you sink your face into your knees and try to sleep.

~*~

The sudden silence pulls you from your nightmares. Screams of agony and pain have been such a constant for the endless nights you've endured that silence bodes an evil far greater.

The room, still clogged with fear, now radiates guilt as well. All four of you know that someone in the room is going to be the next to go . . . the next to die . . . and selfish as it feels, you all hope it's someone else. Stubbornness makes you cling to the hope of survival, even if it's only for a few hours more.

As the silence stretches out, you're careful to avoid the gazes of your three companions. It's hard to watch them get dragged away, knowing that it could be you--that it will be you. Now that the people with power and knowledge are gone, you all know that your captors are doing this for revenge. There is little they can hope to learn from you . . . but your torture and death will be payback for whatever wrong they believe has been done them.

The silence continues, far longer than it should. In the corner, China and Tao stir nervously, glancing at you and at Iuna in the far corner. Shifting slightly, you crawl towards the senior secretaries.

"What--" Your voice, hollow with misuse, cracks slightly. China jumps as Tao winces sympathetically. Clearing your throat, you try again. "What do you think is going on?"

Iuna shifts over, curling closer to you. "I'm not sure," he says softly, his green eyes glinting in the light. "But I do not like it."

"Maybe--" Tao's wide eyes glance towards the door. "Maybe it's rescue--"

China clamps a hand over Tao's mouth. "Do not bring false hope," she hisses, her face ragged. "I can't bear it."

"China--" You reach out a hand to the older woman, unsure what comfort you can offer her. Jerking her hand back, she turns to sink her head into Tao's chest and breaks down into tears.

You're tempted to do the same . . . so tempted. Iuna even goes so far as to hold out one shaking arm, offering you the comfort of his shoulder. Shaking your head with all the dignity you can muster, you crawl carefully back to your corner.

You can hear Iuna rising to his feet behind you, taking a slow, shuffling step towards you.

Then the door bursts open, and the world drops into chaos.

"Kill them all!" a shrill female voice screams. "Kill them before the Jedi finds them!"

You hear China's high wail, followed by Tao's shriek of anguish. Trying to turn around, you're crushed suddenly to the ground as a heavy body falls across you. Twisting slightly, you see Iuna's lifeless eyes staring into yours.

It's too much. Fear, horror, and revulsion chasing themselves around your head, you feel your grip on reality fading as you slide into unconscious oblivion.

~*~

"Wake up. Please . . . you must wake up."

You stir slightly against the floor, feeling the constricting pressure against your chest ease suddenly. Eyes heavy as lead, you try to crack one open to see who it is who is shaking your shoulder.

The warm hand slides up to your forehead, fingers caressing your temples. "Please wake up."

"Hurt," you croak, your voice painful in your ears. "Hurt too much."

You hear a sigh of relief as a strong arm wraps around you. "If I help you, do you think you can walk? Just a little ways, just until we get to my ship."

Along with consciousness returns suspicion. Forcing one eyelid open, you stare at the blurry face above you. "Who 'r you?"

"I'm a Jedi Knight," the voice responds softly. "I came to try to rescue your party, but you're the only one left. We must leave now, before their reinforcements come."

Forcing the other eye open, you shake off the arm and stare around the room, a sob choking in your throat as your eyes slowly work into focus.

Iuan is sprawled next to you, his chest a bloody mess. His blood is soaked into your shirt where he fell across you, obviously shielding you from notice by your attackers. China and Tao lay across the room, their bodies so riddled with blaster wounds that they're barely recognizable.

Rolling over onto your knees, you lean over and curl into a ball, sobbing violently. Of the seventeen people in your diplomatic mission, you are the only one left.

Warm arms wrap around you, pulling you slowly to your feet. "We need to leave," the voice says again. "Once we get to my ship, there will be time to grieve."

"What's y'r name," you slur, craning your head up to look at the face of the Jedi again. Your eyesight is blurry with tears, but you can faintly make out shining blonde hair and bluish green eyes.

"Obi-Wan," he responds softly, wrapping an arm around your waist. "My name is Obi-Wan. Now come with me . . . I'll take you to safety."

~*~

Title: The Answer to Fear (2/3)
Author: Diebin
Rated: NC-17
Archive: Well, duh.
Summery: More angst.

~*~

With all the atrocities you've undergone in the last few days, being bathed as if you were a child barely registers. It seems the capacity for embarrassment has long since left you.

Obi-Wan is gentle and professional, as if bathing women a few years younger than himself is something he does every day. You stare at the wall in front of you, the feeling of his hands on your back bringing a faint shudder of discomfort and nothing more. After the past few days, you wouldn't mind spending a few weeks where no one touched you.

Not even sweet, gentle, handsome Jedi Knights.

You wince violently as his hands brush across your head. "Oh gods," you moan, jerking your head out from under his fingers and cradling your face in your hands. "I forgot."

"Forgot?" Obi-Wan's voice comes softly behind you.

"The Jedi . . . the one who was with us . . ." twisting around you stare up at Obi-Wan. "He shoved all the information into my head."

"The information . . ." Obi-Wan's eyes light up suddenly. "He succeeded in the mission?"

"I don't know," you snap in reply. "All I know is that he dumped it all in my head, and it hurts, and I hate it." Your hard won calm is wavering, the relief of actually being safe finally sinking in. Tears are perilously close to the surface now . . . but you don't dare show weakness.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan says quickly, his eyes focused on your face. "Why don't we finish getting you cleaned up, and then you can sleep for a while. Nothing needs to be done immediately."

You can tell that he's placating you . . . humoring you. And you hate it.

Exhaustion keeps you from showing your disdain, however. Before long you are clean and wrapped in a soft robe, tottering on shaky legs towards the sleeping chamber. You try to brush off Obi-Wan's arms, but he's very insistant, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist until he has you safely deposited in a pile of soft blankets. Drawing a large comforter up over you, he brushes one hand across your forehead. "I'll wake you up in a few hours," he says softly. "Sleep for now."

You wait a few moments before tossing the blankets aside and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Standing slowly, you take hesitant steps towards the mirror, your hands fumbling at the ties on your robe as you walk.

The fabric slides from your shoulders, leaving you shivering slightly in the cool air. Staring into the mirror, you look at the wreck you have become. It is not a pretty sight . . . bruises and cuts and half healed scars, scars that never will completely heal. You lift your arms slowly to either side of your body, staring at your chest and breasts. There are livid bruises still, the mark where hands fondled you roughly.

The sight makes you shudder, and you instinctively draw your hands across your chest protectively. Despite the through cleaning, you feel dirty. Filthy. Disgusting.

Used.

Your eyes slide down the unfamiliar figure in the mirror, noting the harsh bruises on hips and legs, the nasty, cruel little cuts on the stomach left by someone's knife.

"I was used," you whisper softly, taking an unsteady step forward. Lifting one hand, you press it against the viewing glass. "I was used," you repeat, a little louder. Your fingers curl into claws, pressing against the mirror. Staring into the unfamiliar brown eyes looking back at you, you feel your voice rising to a harsh scream as you beat your hand against the mirror.

The door behind you slides open just as you crash your fist into the viewing glass hard enough to shatter it. The sharp pieces slice at your arm as they fall to the floor . . . but the horrible vision is gone.

You can still see it in your head, though. The vision of the twisted, pathetic woman, bruised mentally and physically.

Raped, mentally and physically.

Strong hands wrap around your waist and pull you back sharply, lifting you bodily from the ground and away from the sharp shards of glass. Twisting wildly in the arms, you squirm to face your rescuer, this Knight who has plucked you from certain death.

With sudden clarity, you realize your problem. Even as you flail in his arms, screaming and crying and scratching at him, your brain calmly informs you that you are in the middle of a nervous breakdown. You were near the breaking point--so much fear and pain and agony and uncertainty--and now your body needs release. So it found it's own answer . . . it's own answer to fear.

You open your eyes, hands coming up to grasp Obi-Wan's shoulders tightly. "There's so much inside me that needs to get out," you moan lowly, holding his gaze with your own. "I'm . . . I'm charged."

"Charged?" Obi-Wan's eyes are slightly alarmed, but he keeps his face calm. "You need to tell me what is wrong. I can help."

You laugh, not caring that you sound like you've long since crossed the line to insanity. Curling your fingers into the fabric of his tunic, you begin tugging on it. Your goal is suddenly almost painfully clear--the only thing that will release enough emotion to make you sane again. The only thing that has a chance of making you whole.

It's endearing how confused he is. The gray eyes blink owlishly at you as you tug on the ties of your tunic. Even when your goal becomes clear, the overwhelming chivalry that seems to be inbred in him shields him from your true goal. Shrugging powerful shoulders, he lets his tunic slide off his arms and holds it out to you, obviously waiting for you to put it on to cover yourself.

There is a chair only a few steps behind him. You lift one hand so that it rests in the center of the well muscled chest, letting your eyes drink in the fine lines of a rigid body before you give a powerful shove, sending him stumbling backwards until his knees hit the edge, sending him into a sprawl on the chair.

Dropping his tunic to the floor, you follow.

His eyes have narrowed in sudden comprehension. "I don't think--" he starts, holding up a hand as you stalk towards him.

"Don't think at all," you growl in response, planting a hand on his shoulder and shoving him back as he tries to rise. Smiling slowly, you snake the other hand under the waistband of his lose breeches and curl your fingers around your prize.

He's got control, you'll give him that much. You see him swallow slightly as he suppresses a low moan, but his face remains impassive as strong fingers wrap around your wrist. "This is not a good idea," he says lowly.

Leaning forward, you press your forehead against his, letting your eyes slide closed. "I need this," you say softly. "I need it, damn it." And the words are true, somehow. You know that you need him like you need air. More. Some compulsion is driving you forward, making your body scream for his.

Shifting your face, you slide your lips down and press them slowly against his.

He doesn't kiss back--not at first. You can feel the strength in his hands as they come up to cradle your head, pushing you away slowly. Growling, you shake them off and dive for his lips again.

You may not be the god's gift to men, but a secretarial aide has to learn a few things if she's planning on getting anywhere in the business. Knowing how to turn a man on and keep him begging was right up at the top of the list--and that was the one area where you more than made up for your mousy looks and shy demeanor.

And, in all honesty, if the truth were to be told--you liked the game. In any other arena, you had little enough power. Some of the other women despised you for turning sex into a power struggle--in their eyes you were demeaning your entire gender by learning how to cater to the baser instincts of men.

Their disdain never mattered much to you. Sex was fun. Keeping men begging was even more enjoyable.

You feel the flesh in your fingers stirring under your careful ministrations, and you smile against Obi-Wan's lips with a low purr. "I need you," you whisper against his mouth, your hands sliding along his length. "Please, please let me have you."

Obi-Wan's hands tangle in your hair, pulling your mouth back from his. One hand slowly pulls away from your head and slides down your arm to grasp your wrist, pulling your hand firmly from his pants. "This is not right," he says softly, his eyes betraying him. You can see the desire sparked to life, banked beneath that inscrutable Jedi calm. He wants you, the bastard.

Growling, you pull back and slap him across the face.

Hard.

Obi-Wan looks stunned, but his hand flies up to grab your hand before you can repeat the gesture on his other cheek. Eyes narrowed, he stares into your face. "What is going on here?" he demands. You can feel the muscles in his body tense as he rises swiftly to his feet, one arm wrapping around your waist as he swings you around and plants you in the chair.

Crying out, you attempt to fling yourself out of the chair, your hands going for the laces of his breeches. The compulsion is almost painful now--you need to be joined with this man. Physically, mentally--it doesn't much seem to matter. Just--joined.

He pushes you back into the chair again, straddling your legs with his own to hold you down. He is still arroused, and the feeling of the heat of his groin pressing into your body only makes the craving more unbearable. Balling your hands into fists, you beat helplessly on his chest. "I need--"

Invisible air snatches your hands up. Your face is suddenly caught between two gentle hands, and Obi-Wan's eyes are hovering above your own, staring deeply into yours. "Why didn't I sense it before," he mutters suddenly. "Compulsion."

You blink, unsure what he is saying. "What are you talking about?" you snarl, thrashing against the invisible bonds holding you. "Let me go!"

Obi-Wan brushes a hand down your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "The Jedi who left the information in your brain--he left a compulsion there too. One that was activated by the mind probe I did on you. I triggered it, and you were overwhelmed with the need to establish a mental link." One soft hand brushes your hair from your face, fingers caressing your temple. "You--you are not equipped with the knowledge to establish a link like that, so your body must have translated the need into something that it . . . understood."

You feel your body jerk against his again, desperate to have him. What he was saying seemed to make sense--but it was so hard to cling to any sort of reason when you are so close to him. You need him . . . you want him. His mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his skin rubbing against your own. Your brain conjures up feverish visions, visions where you are entwined in unearthly bliss that can never be.

"I--" Clenching your teeth, you try to ride out the horrifying mind-wracking wave of the compulsion. It leaves you trembling in the chair, body feeling hollow and aching. "What--what are you going to do?"

His hands are cupping your face again. "I'll put you to sleep," Obi-Wan responds. "Once you are in a deep trance state, I can establish a mental link and gather the information he left. If all goes well, I should be able to unwork the compulsion as well."

His concentration must have slipped, because suddenly your hands are free. You watch in semi horror as they fly up to tangle in his hair, dragging his mouth down to yours for a long, wet kiss.

You're both a little breathless by the time his hands have locked around yours and loosened your fingers from their death grip on his hair. "I'll have to do it soon," he gasps, his cheeks a little flushed. "You--your projecting is getting stronger. It's unsettling and distracting."

"Just--" Grinding your teeth together, you choke down on the need screaming at you. "Just do it."

Smiling gently, Obi-Wan leans down and lets his lips caress yours slowly, gently. Your mouth falls open under gentle encouragement from the tip of his tongue, and you groan as you feel his tongue sweep across the swell of your lower lip.

Pulling back slightly, he presses a kiss to your cheek, and then your temple. "Sleep," he whispers as his fingers caress your other temple.

You feel the dreadful pulling of the compulsion, tearing you in two for a heart-wrenching moment. And then the gentle power of this man's mind wins, and you feel yourself sliding into sleep.

~*~

Title: The Answer to Fear (3/3)
Author: Diebin
Rated: NC-17
Archive: Well, duh.
Summery: Sound the smut siren. Houston, we have lift off.

~*~

Warmth is the first thing you become aware of. True warmth--the kind that rarely can be found in space. You can feel the blankets piled around you, tucked tightly around your body. Freeing one arm from your cocoon, you reach up to push your hair away from your face, squirming around until you can see the rest of the room.

Obi-Wan is sprawled in a chair close to the bed, his head resting on his shoulder and his arm stretched out towards you. His face is peaceful in sleep, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly and dark lashes caressing his cheeks.

He's wearing only a pair of loose pants, the blanket that had most likely been covering his body now laying in a puddle besides the chair. Your eyes widen a little as they slide across the planes of his chest--you'd been a little too distraught last night to appreciate him.

Pity, that. There was certainly a lot to appreciate about the man.

Shaking yourself mentally you unwind yourself from the blankets, pushing them away and rising slowly to your feet. You feel off balance somehow--but the terrible, obsessive aching is gone. Looking at Obi-Wan, quiet in repose, all you feel is gentle longing, and a horrible sense of guilt.

You'd practically tried to rape the man.

Clenching your eyes shut, you head towards the fresher, hoping that a long, hot shower will wash away some of the feelings of filth that still cling to you. And maybe cool the hollow longing in your body down a little.

The water is soothing, and you stay under it perhaps longer than you should. Letting it slide down your body, taking the remnants of aches in abused muscles with it, you stare ahead at nothing, enjoying the peace in your mind.

He'd done more than simply remove the information--that much was sure. Before Obi-Wan had put you to sleep, the scars in your mind had felt jagged, sharp and poisoned even to your dulled senses. Now they were smoothed edges, soft and clean. The memories were there--but the guilt and the horror and the overwhelming sense of shame were faint, distant dreams.

Now you owed him your life and your sanity--and so far all you'd done in return was slap him, try to get in his pants against his will, and make his life and mission infinitely more difficult.

Shaking your head and turning off the water, you grope around until you find a towel, rubbing your hair vigorously before wrapping it around yourself and heading towards the door, your clothes gathered up in one arm--

--only to run straight into a disheveled Obi-Wan.

Or more precisely, into his broad, bare, very delicious looking chest.

Gulping, you stumble backwards, only Obi-Wan's hand on your elbow keeping you from a nasty fall--and probably losing your grip on your towel and baring it all to him.

Not that it seemed like all that bad an idea . . .

"Sorry," Obi-Wan mutters softly, his hand still wrapped around your elbow. The feeling of his fingers on your flesh is electrifying, and you can do nothing but stare at him dully. After all the days of fear, all the depression and drama and angst--your body is telling you that it is very much alive, and begging you to prove it.

Maybe by stripping this man the rest of the way down and . . .

You're so busy fighting the demands of your overactive hormones that you almost miss the flash of confusion in his eyes, followed by hastily dampened desire. His cheeks flush bright red as he drops your elbow hastily, stumbling back a step.

From the expression on his face, you could almost believe that he'd heard your thought.

You blink in confusion as he raises one hand to his forehead, rubbing his temple. "I'm sorry--I really am," he whispers softly. "I--I think I'm affecting your mind. I might not have withdrawn as fully as I should have--"

With your blood already pumping as badly as it is, hearing that cultured voice utter the words, 'withdrawn fully' sends a bolt of heat straight to your stomach. Clenching your teeth, you mentally pick yourself up by the scruff of the neck and give yourself a good shake.

"--sorry," he says again, taking a step back. His eyes are almost panicked as he looks anywhere but your face. "I think that some of my feelings may be . . . well . . . warping your own. I think we need a little distance--I can go and work on gathering what's left of me out your mind. I'll try to take all of my feelings with me."

He's gone so fast that you don't even get a chance to respond.

Walking numbly from the bathing room to the bed, you settle down and stare at the floor, trying to wrap your mind around what had just happened.

He is a Jedi. Apparently that means that he can hear your thoughts--which means he now knows all the horribly illicit things you want to do to him. That explained a good deal of his embarrassment and confusion--after all, you'd molested the man the night before. Of course he'd be a little nervous now.

But the part about projecting his feelings on to you--you certainly hadn't been feeling anything that didn't belong to you. After all, it was highly unlikely that he was projecting his own desire to get it on with himself . . .

You blink and give yourself a mental slap at /that/ particular bit of foolishness.

Settling back into the bed, you try to think through it again. He sensed your desire. He thought he was affecting your desire. Well--he certainly was, but not in any mental way. The only emotion you were feeling right now was lust--

You sit up so quickly your head starts spinning.

Or maybe it's just the realization, and it's implications.

The man is feeling lust. Desire. For you. And he has got himself convinced that the lust he's feeling in return is nothing but what he's influencing you to feel.

For a few long moments you examine yourself, trying to decide if he's right. After all you've been through, the /last/ thing you'd expect would be such overwhelming desire for a quick roll in the hay with some stranger . . .

. . . but then again, the stranger was a Jedi. Protector of the weak, upholder of peace and justice . . . and if rumor was right, possessor of the ability to make Gods weep in envy over his sexual skills.

Well--that part was probably a little blown out of proportion--but the rest of it was nothing less then truth. Fate had dragged you over the coals--and then dropped you in the arms of an attractive, gentle, caring man who actually wanted you.

You may not believe in Fate--but even you can take a hint. Rising from the bed, the towel still firmly wrapped around you, you march from the room, your mission now clear.

It was time to throw away fear and embrace something else.

Something infinitely more entertaining.

~*~

Obi-Wan is sitting in the pilots chair when you find him, staring desolately out into space. He still hasn't managed to procure a shirt for himself, and the expanse of his golden chest only gives new meaning to your mission.

He lifts his head as he hears your soft footfalls, spinning in the large, cushioned chair so that he's facing you.

As soon as you feel those aqua eyes focused onto you, you remove your hand and let your towel slide to the floor.

His eyes widen, falling from your face to glide down the curves of your body before he can help himself. You smile as he visibly takes hold of himself, forcing his eyes back to your own. "I thought I had stopped projecting--" he begins nervously, shifting in the chair slightly.

"You did," you reply, taking a step forward.

"Then why--"

"You stopped projecting. That doesn't mean I stopped feeling. I've got feelings of my own, you know." Another step. "Needs. Desires."

Obi-Wan swallows visibly. "But I thought--"

"If you want me to stop, please tell me now," you say softly, taking the final step that puts you within arm reach of him. "I want you--I really do. But I don't want to force you--I just want--" You start to stumble over your words as he says nothing, simply staring at you with those intense, hungry eyes. "I want to know if you--if you want me too--"

His arm snakes out and locks around your waist, strong fingers digging into your hip as he pulls you down into his lap, your legs straddling his. Before you can blink his lips are on yours, tugging insistently against your mouth as he lets out a low, needy moan.

You shift your hips slightly, groaning as you find how aroused he already is. As his tongue teases your lips apart, you grind your hips down into his, enjoying the breathless moans as he pushes his hips up against you. One of his hands slides from your head down to your lower back, holding your body still as he rocks up into it with the rhythm of his frantic kiss.

Pulling back, you gaze down at Obi-Wan's kiss swollen lips, smiling at the slightly dazed look on his face. "Do you trust me?" you whisper softly, sliding down slightly to press slow wet kisses to his chest.

"Yes," he breathes in response, one hand coming up to cup the back of your skull as your lips slide over a nipple, tongue playing with the sensitive bud as he arches his body up towards you.

With a smile you slide the rest of the way down to the ground, your hands snagging the waistband of his pants and tugging on it until you've managed to work his pants to his knees.

Obi-Wan lays sprawled in the chair, staring at you down the length of his body. He looks debauched, pants clinging to his knees as he slumps in the chair, chest rising a little more rapidly with every second you sit staring at him.

But the minute you lean forward, hands catch your head and hold you steady as you stare up at him, eyes wide with confusion.

"No," he whispers, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead. "I have been in your mind. I saw what those . . . animals made you do for them. You do not need to pleasure me."

"But--" You are pinned suddenly as Obi-Wan slides out of the chair, his knees falling to either side of your own, his body pressing against you. His hands wrap around your face, holding you still as he leans down to kiss every vestige of coherency away.

You're gasping when he pulls back. "Let me do this for you," he whispers, rising slowly to his feet and pulling you up behind him.

"For us," you correct, reaching up to wrap your hands in his hair and pull him down for another long kiss. You can't help but moan as your tongues slide together, wet slippery heat that feeds the fire burning higher between you. You stumble back together until your back hits the wall, his pants left behind in a pile in the middle of the floor. The feeling of so much skin stretched out along yours is exhilarating, and you let out a soft moan.

Your moan turns into a soft cry as his mouth slides down to your neck, caressing the soft skin at your shoulder as both hands sweep up your body to cup your breasts gently. Letting your eyes fall shut, you lean back into the wall and let this man worship your body.

And he does. His mouth slides over your skin restlessly, never pausing for more than a few seconds but leaving a trail of hypersensitive skin in it's wake. His hands are hot, the calluses dragging excitingly against your skin as he glides them across your body, over your shoulders, down your arms, and back to your breasts.

Your eyes fly open when his lips glide across your breast, his tongue sneaking out to snake around you pebbled nipple and drive a harsh cry from your lips. Dragging your hands up to cup his head, you arch your body into his mouth, whimpering at the incredible feeling.

Fingers brush against the wet flesh as his mouth shifts over to it's twin, lavishing equal care and attention to the aching nub. You can feel his lips curl into a smile as you writhe against the wall, your moans turning into broken pleas as the teasing continues.

Finally you can't stand it anymore. Digging your hands into his shoulders, you push him back. "Bed," you whisper, voice breathless. "Take me to bed."

His lips fall to yours, tongue driving between your lips to tangle with your own as he wraps his arms tightly around you. Next thing you know you're moving, Obi-Wan walking into the bedroom with you clenched tightly against him, never for a moment breaking the breathtaking contact with your lips.

You're dazed when your back hits the bed, your legs dangling of the side. Rising on your elbows, you stare down at Obi-Wan just in time to see his face descending to kiss your inner thigh, his hands coming up to guide your legs apart as he pulls one over his shoulder.

"Obi-Wan--" you whisper, reaching down to weave the fingers of one hand into his hair with every intention of pulling him away.

Intentions or not, everything flies from your head when he leans down to press a long, deep kiss to your center. Your elbow flies out from under you and your hand grasps helplessly for something to cling to as his tongue makes slow, deliberate circles around your pulsing clit.

Your low moan is echoed by Obi-Wan, an appreciative growl rising from deep within him as you arch your hips helplessly into him. Your hand slides from his head, tangling in the blanket as you begin to whimper helplessly with the ever increasing rhythm off his skillful mouth.

In one moment of clarity, you decide that the rumors weren't exaggerated at all. If anything, little could have prepared you for a man who could read the tiniest nuance of your desire--who knew where to touch you before you even felt it yourself.

Reaching down again, you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling his head away. "Obi-Wan--" you gasp, trying to gather the ability to move enough so that there will be room for him on the bed with you. "Please--I want to be part of you."

Obi-Wan, damn him, pauses. "This--this isn't part of the compulsion, is it?" he asks slowly, rising to the bed as you finally shift over, hands tugging frantically on his shoulders as you try to pull him down to you.

"This is a woman who needs a man," you reply with a low groan as you feel his erection pressing into your hip. Shifting to the side, you both groan as his length brushes against your folds. "Now."

Obi-Wan rises slowly to his knees, his hands sliding up to caress your waist before slowly moving down to clutch at your thighs, inching them apart. Catching your eyes with his own, he presses the tip of his erection into you.

Crossing your legs behind Obi-Wan, you dig your heels into his back and press him further into you, moaning at the exquisite feeling. Obi-Wan's hands fall to the mattress on either side of your head as he tries to control his urge to simply bury himself as deeply inside you as he can.

Your moans rise together as his hips finally press against yours, his entire length throbbing inside you. You arch your back up as his arms slide around you, pulling you up so that you're straddling his thighs.

In an impressive show of dexterity, Obi-Wan somehow manages to get both of you turned around without withdrawing, until your back is pressed up against the wall. Obi-Wan's hands slide down your arms to find yours, twining fingers with them as he guides them up above your head, pressed into the wall.

"Please," you whimper, thrusting your hips as best you can, unable to get enough leverage to truly move. Obi-Wan smiles, dropping his lips to yours as he pulls back slightly and thrusts back in, rising to his knees and pushing you up the wall as he strives for better leverage. You moan as the slight change of angle brushes all the right spots, your head crashing back into the wall with a dull thud as you writhe against his body.

"Yes," Obi-Wan sighs finally, pulling back and suckling on your lower lip for a few moments. His hips are circling with growing urgency, the short thrusts becoming longer and deeper. His hands release yours as he slides one hand up the wall for balance, the other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls your hips forward just enough so that his next thrust slides across the hidden nerve inside you that sends your reality spiraling.

Your cry seems to unleash something in him. Obi-Wan's hips are grinding faster now, slamming into yours repeatedly as he groans with every thrust. You can do little but cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles as they tense and flex. You grind your hips into his, chasing after pleasure that dances just out of reach . . .

"Damn it all," Obi-Wan growls suddenly, his arms tightening around your body as he spins again, dropping you back to the bed. His elbows land on either side of your head as his hands tangle in your hair, holding your face still as his lips descend to yours, kissing you with an intensity that makes you dizzy.

"Please, say it," he whispers, pulling back and resting his face against your cheek as his hips circle and plunge deep within you. "I just want to hear--"

"Come for me," you whisper, tangling your hands in his hair and arching your hips up to meet his. "Make me come for you."

Obi-Wan groans, one hand lifting to slide down your body and massage frantic circles around your nub. "Now," he growls, his hips slamming into yours. "Now."

Throwing your head back, you let out a harsh cry as you feel yourself plummet over the edge, your body wracked with the most incredible spasms you've ever felt. You faintly hear Obi-Wan groan as your body tightens around him, coaxing him over the edge. His cry of release as he thrusts his orgasm into you cuts to your soul, and you whimper slightly as your body continues trembling.

Obi-Wan comes to rest on top of you, his body a heavy but comforting weight against yours. His face is buried in your neck, his breath faintly tickling your shoulder as he gasps for breath, obviously trying to regain composure long since shattered.

Finally he pulls back slightly, withdrawing from you with a soft sigh. Wrapping an arm around you, Obi-Wan rolls over onto his side, pulling you snug against him. "That was--"

"Beautiful," you reply sleepily, curling up happily against his body. "Let's do it again sometime."

Obi-Wan lets out a low chuckle, reaching over to pull a blanket over both of you. "Lady, I don't know what you've heard about Jedi, but I'm sure it was an exaggeration."

"I wouldn't say so," you reply with a smile, sleep already creeping up to claim you. "I'd say it was all dead on."

~*~

Fin. Finally. Only one month late for Emmy's birthday.

Oh well. HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMY!